


never let me go

by acemoritz



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Asexual Stanley Uris, Fluff, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mike Hanlon Deserves Love, Stanley Uris Has OCD, Stanley Uris-centric, they bond over animals, traumatized gays give each other hugs in the woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:38:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21413308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acemoritz/pseuds/acemoritz
Summary: Stanley Uris is probably the most adorable person Mike has ever seen.It isn’t for a little bit after their first meeting that Mike gets to really see him, because it starts with the rock fight, and he’s kind of busy avoiding being pummeled by Bowers or flying rocks to notice, but when they’re heading out, and the fanny pack kid is going on and on about who knows what, the sun catches on this one boy’s bouncing curls, and Mike’s breath hitches.(Basically Mike and Stan being wholesome gays.)
Relationships: Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris
Comments: 20
Kudos: 89





	never let me go

**Author's Note:**

> hello i thrive off of mike/stan content so i decided to provide some of my own <3  
title is from when i read "never let me go" by kazuo ishiguro last year but the book isn't related  
also there might be some inaccuracies so uhhhh point them out in the comments p l e a s e

Stanley Uris is probably the most adorable person Mike has ever seen.  
  
It isn’t for a little bit after their first meeting that Mike gets to really see him, because it starts with the rock fight, and he’s kind of busy avoiding being pummeled by Bowers or flying rocks to notice, but when they’re heading out, and fanny pack kid is going on and on about who knows what, the sun catches on this one boy’s bouncing curls, and Mike’s breath hitches.  
  
They’ve all seen Pennywise - except for Richie, who cleverly deems It a vision for virgins - and they share their experiences under the Paul Bunyan statue. Stanley Uris’s voice is shaky and quiet when he describes what he has seen - a crooked lady from a painting playing the flute. And Mike feels bad, but his heart is also pounding because even in his acute fear Stan looks a little bit like an angel.  
  
Still, Mike isn’t sure whether Stan is reachable; for a long time, he seems distant and closed off, until one day when Mike absently mentions his farm. As clear as day Mike can recall the way Stan’s face lights up, glistening eyes brightened.  
  
“You have a farm?” he says, voice as level as always, as if completely uninterested, but his eyes give it all away. Upon Mike’s nod of affirmation, he smiles and Mike’s heart lights on fire. “I love animals. Especially birds.”  
  
Then, Stan pulls a bound book out of his pocket, revealing it to be a bird manual. Flipping through it, Stan sits shoulder to shoulder with Mike, talking in a soft and consistent tone. “I carry this around everywhere. Hoping to get a kiwi for my birthday.”  
  
Mike isn’t really able to say anything, so he just smiles and watches Stan’s delicate fingers turn a page.  
  
Mike knows this is dangerous. His parents have told him time and time again. It’s dangerous being gay in Derry. It’s even more dangerous being black. So an intersection of being gay and black is a death note, his parents say. And as much as Mike both knows and agrees that it’s dangerous, he can’t change it, and Stan’s warm, soft, delicate beauty is enough for him to know the danger is worth it.  
  
So as Mike sticks to the Losers, with Stan becoming more and more open and lovable the more time they spend together. He is careful and specific, bringing shower caps into the clubhouse the very day of the rock fight to protect against spiders. He’s sharp-witted and funny, shooting cutting responses to Richie’s terrible one liners that send Mike snickering into his palm. Intellectual and thoughtful, he recommends books to similarly intellectual Mike and Ben, and they spend long hours in the library under the window’s setting sun. And Stan cares. Emotional and sensitive, Mike begins to find creases and small tics that reveal Stan behind his stoic mask of apathy. He can sense Stan’s excitement about a topic even when he doesn’t say anything, feel his appreciation in his chest without a word of praise, and hear his misery without a declaration of his sadness that never comes.  
  
The first time they spend time alone, without the rest of the Losers, they had been in the clubhouse, with the others, when Stan asks him in that soft, controlled voice of his, “Do you want to go on a walk?”  
  
Mike automatically turns to see the others, confirm whether Stan is talking to him, Mike Hanlon, but he’s the only one nearby. (Eddie and Richie are fighting over the hammock while the rest dance a disturbingly inaccurate rendition of the Macarena to the playing The Cure song.) So his face reddens, and he says yes, of course.  
  
No one so much as glances when they leave, and Stan leads the way, bird book open in a hand. They walk around dozens of spiraling trees and trip over rocks and puddles. They hardly talk, but it’s a pleasant sort of silence, illuminated by the falling sun.  
  
When they’re on their way back to the clubhouse, Mike gains the courage to speak. “Why did you want to go on that walk, Stan?”  
  
“I like walks,” he says simply, as if it’s clear as day.  
  
“Why only me?” Mike adds, feeling a little bit like a fool.  
  
Stan stops in his spot, and gives Mike the warmest and slightest of smiles. “Because I like spending time with you.”  
  
That response keeps Mike bouncing in his step the whole way home.  
  
The Club continues to seek out the mystery of Georgie’s death, and the whole clown thing, leading up to their big fight. Having the group separated for a month hurt. Mike wishes more than anything now that he wasn’t homeschooled, so that he can at least pass his friends in the hallways, but no dice, he’s an outsider again.  
  
So it’s a surprise when he runs into Stan not too far from his farm.  
  
Stan is in his usual attire, but there’s something different about his disposition. Nervous and fidgety, he stands with stiff posture and dark eyebags.  
  
“Stan,” Mike breathes. As if Stan is something out of a dream.  
  
“Hi,” Stan simply says, sort of avoiding eye contact, just as he normally does. And Mike is endeared. “How are you?”  
  
“Good,” Mike responds. “How are you?”  
  
“Good,” Stan responds equally automatically. “Do you want to go on a walk?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Just like usual, nature passes beside them as they trek. Except, normally Stan leads the way, about two feet in front of him, but this time they’re side by side, shoulders bumping together every minute or so. Once they’re in the midst of trees, Stan starts to talk, slowing his gait slightly.  
  
“Is it bad that I miss you?”  
  
“Why would that be bad?” Mike asks, watching Stan’s faze trail the ground.  
  
“I mean, is it bad that I miss you more than the others?” Stan corrects, folding his arms in a way that indicates to Mike that he’s nervous about the response.  
  
“No,” Mike says, breath hot and stilted. “I miss you, too. A lot.”  
  
Stan smiles slightly. Doesn’t lift his gaze. And says, “I kind of want to kiss you.”  
  
Mike’s face burns like fire and he can only stutter out, “Me too.”  
  
So Stan finally looks up, and looks at him with those dark speckled eyes, sending Mike’s stomach into a twist.  
  
But then Mike gains the courage to lean in, and their lips meet, and it’s short but wonderful, and everything Mike has fantasied about in the dark of the night. And when they separate, they’re both smiling.  
  
“So, are you gay?” Stan asks softly, brow furrowing slightly. Nervous again, what for Mike can’t fathom, because personally he’s on a cloud nine.  
  
Mike shrugs. “I like humans.”  
  
Stan bites his lip thoughtfully.  
  
“I like you,” Mike adds.  
  
Stan’s face breaks into a smile, one that lights up Mike’s entire body.  
  
And, until the Club gets back together, they go on more of these little half-dates, wandering through nature and touching their lips together in gentle utopia. Stan’s clearly nervous about it, and Mike gets it, they live in Derry, for God’s sake, so he promises that they will keep this as a secret, for now.  
  
As they’re on their way to Neibolt again, Mike wants to tell the others, wants to hold Stan’s hand and not feel bad about it, but he knows Stanley well enough to see he’s scared enough as it is, so they simply hold themselves together and work to save Beverly.  
  
Outside on the field, Bill holds glass in his left hand, and tells them to promise to come back in twenty-seven years, if It’s not dead yet. And swipes the glass across his other palm, letting blood bubble up and tumble down the sides.  
  
Mike doesn’t miss Stan’s face as he cuts himself. Scrunched up and blinking fast, as if they’ve been cutting onions instead. Stan’s hand wavers down, as if contemplating a different kind of cut, but then he slides it over his palm too, and passes it over to Mike, watching Mike’s face contorted with patience.  
  
And Mike takes his hand, squeezing it gently, careful of the cut, but trying to communicate everything without saying a word.  
  
Never let me go, Stan, and I’ll never let you go.  
  
They make eye contact, and Stan’s face says an eternity.  
  
And he leaves the field.  
  
After that, Stan is different. Noticeably so. Distant and silent. Then again, all of them are different now. Even Richie has sobered up, delivering his bad jokes with pretended enthusiasm. Mike once catches Eddie asking Bill if Richie has been acting weird, recently, and Bill’s response is a short “Richie asked the same thing about you yesterday.”  
  
But Stan won’t talk to him, the way they used to. He fills the once comforting silence with long anecdotes. Stan is more himself in his silence, and it feels like he’s now compromising himself with the dialogue. And Mike is worried for him, and misses him more than anything.  
  
They’re in the field as usual. Mike is holding his hand, ignoring how clammy and cold it is, and listening to Stan absently ramble. Then he decides to say something.  
  
“Stan, are you actually doing okay?”  
  
Stan pauses, giving Mike a glance, back with the silence Mike knows so well. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I know all the Pennywise stuff that happened hit you hard,” Mike explains, rubbing circles over the scar on his hand. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay. Because I know we haven’t talked about it much as a group. And I think we need to.”  
  
Stan stands still, wavering in his stance, letting Mike run his finger down the scar on his face, from his eyebrow to his chin. His eyes shut and Mike wants to cry. But only a little bit.  
  
“Stan?” Mike repeats.  
  
And suddenly, Stan breaks into sobs, hands covering his eyes. Mike embraces him instinctively, shaking along with him, letting Stan’s tears wet his shoulder. When Stan starts talking, incoherently dropping phrases. Mike tries to follow, catching broken phrases about empty pistols, sharp glass, and thoughts that never quell. He holds him under the dimming sun until Stan stills, pulling his arms around Mike as if his life depends on it.  
  
“It’s going to be okay, Stan, listen,” Mike asserts, refusing to let go.  
  
“No, it’s not,” Stan repeats, ignoring Mike’s pleas. “It’s not, Mike, we have to come back in twenty-seven years, I can’t do it.”  
  
“Yes, you can!”  
  
“I’m not - not strong enough, Mike -”  
  
“You are, Stan -”  
  
“I’m just not, I barely survived this time through -”  
  
“Listen, Stan.” Mike holds Stan’s face, forces him to look into his eyes. Take a breath. “You don’t need to do this alone. You’ve got us. All of us. You’ve got me.”  
  
Stan breathes out a stifled exhale.  
  
“You’ve got me, Stan. And we’ll get through this.”  
  
Then, Stan laughs, softly, a warm winter breeze. “That’s so cheesy, Mike.”  
  
And Mike laughs too, and suddenly, they’re both giggling, as if they’ve heard the funniest thing in the world. “I can’t help it if I’m cheesy!”  
  
“That’s so cheesy!”  
  
“What, not my fault that I love you!” Mike says, and then, upon the stark silence, he realizes what he’s said, face heating up immediately with regret. “Oh, god, sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird about it -”  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Stan says, watching Mike’s hands, sort of squeezing them. “Do you actually?”  
  
“I mean,” Mike stops. “Yeah. I do.”  
  
Stan’s eyes bear into Mike’s own, and then he smiles. “Cool.”  
  
“Cool?”  
  
“Yeah, cool, I love you too, you cheesy loser,” Stan says and Mike is torn between laughing, hitting Stan for his comment, and kissing him senseless. So he just pulls Stan into a rough hug, letting the fall leaves bustle around him. And Mike knows the rest of their time will be like this - a mix of sorrow, fear, things unsaid, and, above all, love. But, he believes what he has said - that they will be okay if they stick together, as long as they never let each other go.

**Author's Note:**

> aaa hope u enjoyed - please give feedback !!!! have an amazing day


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